The Queen of the Weblownians
By Christopher M. Reed

Date Submitted/Written: April 14, 1999
Author's Web Site*Author's E-Mail


The Queen of the Weblownians. That was simply, Maxima's title and position in the country of Weblow. She was known as THE queen of the Weblownians. The Weblownians, being HER people. All was serene and calm in the great empire of Weblow. Until it, and everything in the country, was thrown into turmoil.

***

Maxima calmly relaxed in the warm water that surrounded, flowed, and engulfed her body, neck down. Her eyes were closed and the bright Weblownian sun rested warmly on her face. All was good.
"You highness," a feminine voice softly said.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. She once again was familiar with her surroundings. She waded in a giant pool, HER bath. The crystal clear water was amazingly sparkling against the light of the sun. Soap suds covered the intimate parts of her body. Twelve maids in waiting stood, at attention around the bath's steps.
The bath itself was situated in a huge building, known as the "hall." Marble floors were polished brilliantly. Tall, slim windows stood at the edge of the bath/pool. Giant curtains, the length of the windows, were pulled back to reveal the enormous fields of flowers, such as daffodils right outside the "hall." And tall columns reached to the ceiling.
Mia, Maxima's head maid in waiting, stood anxiously at the side of the pool/bath. Her hands were hidden in her green robes. "You're highness."
"What is it Mia," Maxima questioned, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.
"Chancellor Cwane wishes an audience with your highness," she informed with a slight bow of the upper torso.
"Really? Chancellor Cwane wishes to see me? Well send him in Mia," Maxima said with a devilish grin. Maxima saw Cwane as amusing and interesting. Someone who practically had raised her since her child hood. Yet he still kept his dashing young looks and a look about him that said he meant business.
Moments later the tall, double doors opened with two figures, Mia and the chancellor of royal affairs, Cwane.
Maxima turned her attention away from the two. She could hear the loud tapping of Cwane's huge steps, Clicking loudly against the marble floor.
"Maxima, you know why I'm here," she heard the voice say from behind her.
"You're right, Cwane. I Do know why you are here," she replied keeping her attention strait ahead of her.
"As chancellor of royal affairs it is my duty to inform you that it is far past time for Mok'Bara. Your birthday was a month ago," he said sternly and loudly so it rang through out the "hall".
"Mok'Bara...the famous Weblownian mating ritual," she said. She splashed with the water thoughtfully.
"Would you like to know a little about your mate," he questioned. Maxima's head jerked around violently. The water around her rippled away from her ivory skinned body. Cwane was standing smug, his hands draped in front of him, his chin lowered.
"Yes, who is this mate which the council has picked for their unwilling queen?"
"Prince Drake of Reed," he said with a grin. Maxima pulled her self to her full length, letting the soap and water drip from her body. Cwane lowered his eyes to the water, trying not to look directly at her body. He had seen her nude before, of course. But it was when she was only a child. The years had developed her.
Maxima stepped out of the pool/bath as the twelve maids swarmed around her preforming tasks such as drying her body, brushing her hair, applying cosmetics, dressing her and so forth. When they completed their tasks they all respectively bowed and backed away.
"Leave us," Maxima instructed, motioning towards the tall double doors, "I wish to be alone with the chancellor."
Simultaneously the maids fell into a perfect line and quickly exited the "hall".
"Goddess, Maxima! You can't be upset," he said as soon as the tall doors closed. Maxima returned her glance to Cwane.
"And why can't I? I'm queen, supreme ruler of Weblow," she said stubbornly.
"Because, we've gone through this every year since your fourteenth birthday, and every time I let is slide by. By comming up with some original story to propose to the high council. However, the council is insisting that you now, mate. Someone must take over the throne when you depart to join the Goddess in her fields," he said standing his ground. He had never raised his voice at her before. It wasn't proper.
Maxima sighed and tip toed to a plush love seat against one of the windows, plopping down innocently enough. "So, prince Drake, eh?"
"Yes," he said happily, knowing he had gotten through to her, "he is young, athletic, dashing, debonair, handsome...uh, all the qualities you would want in a man. And in your child."
"How young...is he," she questioned, bracing her self for an age such as thirteen, royalty was spoiled. Mating at a younger age would not be much of a surprise.
"The prince is sixteen years old," he said loudly, as if it would make it any better.
"Sixteen," she exclaimed, "Goddess, that's young."
"No, it is not," he corrected holding up his index finger, "the average Weblownian child is sexually active by the age of fourteen. I can not help it if you decided to stay a virgin for eight years after you became of age."
"I'm twenty two and you want me to mate with some sixteen year old I have never met," she asked in disbelief.
"The council believes this a good way to get a ‘foot hold' in the ‘door' of Reed. So as we will have allies and such," he reasoned.
"Perhaps, I never wish to mate," she said smugly.
"If you will not mate you will lose your throne. We can't have that now can we, your highness," he said bowing. "The prince is due aft night."
Cwane turned on his heal and exited, his long yellow robes dragging behind him.
In a last resort of rebellion Maxima stuck out her tongue in Cwane's direction. As he opened the door he paused.
"And stick that tongue back in your mouth. It isn't lady like," he said, shaking his head. Never even turning to look at her.
"How did you---."
"I've known you too long, queen," he said hastily and then exited briskly, letting the door slam behind him.

***

"May the Goddess bless you with many more birthdays to come, my daughter," the grey haired man said.
Sarah looked up from a book, which she had been reading at the kitchen table, to see her grey haired father holding a small cloth bag. Noticing the bag, she thoughtfully set the book down on the table. Laying it just so, as to not lose her place. King Arthur, after all, was a most fascinating man and she did not want to lose her place when reading of his adventurous tails.
"Thank you father," she said with a smile that lit up their small thatched cottage.
"These are for you, my sweet daughter," he said motioning to the bag, then plopping it down on the wooden table. curiously she untied the leather sting holding the bag closed then peered inside.
"They are Weblow beans, said to have been blessed by the Goddess herself," he said enthused, "they were given to me by my father and they were given to him by his father and by his father and...I think you understand. They are a present, for your coming of age birthday."
"Oh, father," she said throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tight, "I don't know what to say. I mean I love them. I mean they are great. I mean---"
"Just say you will pass them on to your child, when it comes of age," he said softly into her ear. All of a sudden the smile on her face quickly turned into a frown, as she backed away from her father.
"A child," she whispered to herself.
"Yes, you are fourteen now. It is time for Mok' Bara," the father informed, seeing no need to explain. She had known all along, that when she turned fourteen she would participate in Mok' Bara.
"Who...who did you chose for me father," she said collecting her cool. Ready to take any name he could give.
"Kanto," he informed with a slight smile. He knew how well his daughter and Kanto got along. It was beautiful and awe inspiring the way they had grown up together and in that time created a bond which could not be broken. Kanto, however was one year older than Sarah, fifteen.
"Kanto," she repeated. She remembered how they had talked about Mok' Bara and vowed they would be together during the ritual. She found him attractive enough but now that it was time she wasn't sure it was what she now wanted. She knew Kanto to well, to well to experience Mok'Bara with him.
"Yes, Kanto. I figured you two would end up together eventually," he admitted sitting across from her and taking her small hand in his. "Is there something wrong with Kanto?"
"No, father. No," was all she could say. Why didn't she tell him how she really felt? She didn't want to create the internal bond of Mok'Bara with Kanto. Nor did she wish to participate in this outrageous ritual when she did not chose to.
"Perfect," he said clapping his withered hands together briskly, "then it is settled. I have arranged for Kanto to come here tonight. For, Mok'Bara."
"Tonight," she exclaimed. It did not come out the way she had intended to ask the question.
"Yes, my daughter. Why don't you freshen up a bit?"
"Uhm, yes father," she said in an obedient tone. Freshening up consisted of readying many things for Mok'Bara. Such as fully bathing, applying inscence, washing and ironing of the official Mok'Bara garment, picking the males favorite flowers and spreading the pedals across the bedroom floor, setting and lighting literally hundreds of wax candles around the bedroom, boiling two bowls of Weblow beans that had been blessed by a high priest, setting the bowls on each side of the bed so as the sweet fragrance would be able to float freely through out the room, placing two glasses of Papaya wine which was made when the participant was born, and placing a symbol of the Weblownian goddess directly above the bed so she could help in the ‘planting' of the seed.
It was a rigorous ritual and it was happening all too fast for Sarah. She wanted out and an attempt at suicide would cause her to lose her place in the Goddess' great garden, and being condemned to a place of unspeakable torture and work. Death by suicide, simply, was not an option.
As Sarah squatted in the small, wooden bath she desperately thought of ways to escape this fate which, seemed, just that...A fate.
Then the idea struck her. It was not one which she was proud of but it was an option. And it wasn't punishable by damnation. It only meant she would spend an Earth year in Gothis, the under world of hate. And three hundred sixty five days was like a mere minute in the vast time span known as an eternity.
The answer was simply murder. She would kill, sadly enough, Kanto. Then runaway from her home in the country side. Perhaps she could become a maid in waiting for the queen. Perhaps she could travel the country, or even the world. IF she could sneak past the border patrol and found water transportation perhaps she would be able to escape Weblow. Or perhaps she could run away from her home and just... Be.
As she excitedly and anxiously scrubbed her body she remembered an old saying that her mother had once told her. She did not know where her mother learned it and she could now, not ask her, for she was walking in the the great Goddess' field of Weblow beans.
The saying was Carpe Diam, or translated into Morden Weblownian: "Seize the day," and Sarah would do just that. Seize the day and also seize control of her own life. It was all clear and it all made sense to her.
She was free.

***

The Royal Weblownian philharmonic orchestra beautifully played an overture titled "Queen Maxima," written and composed by Sir Julius Justino. Maxima silently took in the sights and sounds of the front of her palace. The entire kingdom anxiously awaited the arrival of Prince Drake of Reed.
The marble steps glistened in the sun as royal servants scurried all about in preparation for the young man's approach. Maxima and Cwane solemnly stood at the top of the steps which led into the breathtakingly enormous palace.
Suddenly without warning the huge, thick doors which served as the gates to the place swung open revealing the prince's golden carriage and his band of servants. Gracefully the gallant, white horses pulling the carriage galloped down the solid gold road way which was lined by women dressed entirely in white.
Lifelessly they tossed daffodil peddles upon the street just before the prince's carriage and his men trampled over them. The guests were welcomed by beautiful gardens that surrounded the palace which consisted of exotic trees and flowers. It appeared as though the great Goddess of Weblow purposely let a rainbow spill upon the royal grounds.
Men harmonically played their flutetaes, together, for they believed it was a way of fertilization for the gardens.
Then in a horrific scream form the eight white horses, the carriage stopped right in front of the lengthy palace steps. The small black carriage door slammed open revealing an old man of about sixty, dressed in a fully decorated uniform. Sternly he stepped out of the royal transport and cleared his throat. All the sound stopped.
"Here ye! Here ye! Announcing the arrival of Prince Drake Von Haderlitz. Heir to the throne, to the country of Reed!"
A joyous cry erupted from the palace patrons and fire works too erupted. Then a carpet was rolled out from the darkened hole in the carriage and a leg, wearing dark colored tights emerged, than the body and lastly the face of the sixteen year old prince.
"Well, he is handsome," Maxima whispered to Cwane, who was directly standing behind her. In return, Cwane simply smiled in self gratitude.
Gallantly, like his horses Drake trekked the steps and stopped in front of the queen. He gracefully took her hand and gently pressed it to his lips. Then smiled at her.
Maxima simply nodded, turned and led the prince into the palace, listening as the doors were slammed behind them. The crowd of people that was following the young couple eventually was down to one person, Mia. As they silently walked down a dark hall way they stopped in front of a door, cast with shadows. Mia obediently pushed the thick door open. It was insulated for sounds.
Mia bowed, then closed the door behind the two. The Mok'Bara room had not been used since Maxima's parents had conceived her. Yet, the room was done up to the letter. As all high priests had instructed it should be.
"This is my first time," Maxima warned, lying on the bed.
"Really," Drake answered, the candle light bounced off his black hair. "I will guide you though it."
Maxima felt the odd one, for never had participating in the conceiving of a child, while a man of sixteen had surly been with more than one woman.
"So, you have many children," she questioned, fixing the pillows and blankets just right. Drake sat at on the opposite side of the bed.
"No, I have none. Yours will be my first," he said matter-of-factly.
"But you just said you've done this before," she shot back. Drake laughed out loud. "I don't see the funny side to all this," she admitted.
"In Reed, where I come from, what we are about to do is called a sexual intercourse, or simply sex. We participate in it for mere pleasure, but sometimes a child IS born," he responded calmly.
"Intriguing," she said starring off somewhere foreign to Drake.
"Do you want to begin," Drake questioned innocently. This was his first older woman, and it was simply Maxima's...first.
"Uhm, please," she said anxiously. Drake slipped out of his robes and Maxima did the same. With in no time, whatever doubt Maxima was felling was gone.
Drake enjoyed a long passionate night and Maxima was sure the fertilization was a success, thanks to the Goddess.

***

The thin wooden door rocked on it's hinges as it was knocked on.
"Enter," Sarah's father instructed. Kanto, a strong man entered the cottage, unaware of what fate await him in the bedroom of Sarah.
"Good evening, sir," he greeted handing the father a Weblow bean roast. It was a sort of compensation and thanks for letting his house be used in Mok'Bara.
"Yes, good evening. And may the Great Goddess of Weblow guide life into Sarah's egg," he said joyously, leading him to the bedroom in the far end of the house.
"Thank you again," Kanto told the grey haired man, then entered the bedroom, unannounced.
"Your welcome my boy, your welcome," he whispered. Sarah jerked around as her bedroom door was opened then shut. Standing respectively was Kanto.
"You look lovely," Kanto said.
"As do you," she replied, "come, let us begin." As a sort of bait she let the robes slide down, off her body, then got into her bed. Kanto soon followed.
As Sarah lay atop Kanto, kissing him passionately she opened her eyes, starring strait at the knife sitting on her night stand. Effortlessly she grabbed it, gripped it tightly then stabbed it into his side, numerous times. He only once let out a moan, then was silent.
For good.
"Goddess," she screamed. Then she remembered her father in the next room, so she collected her coolness and then returned her glance to the bloody carcass she was laying upon. In a rush she pushed herself off of him, blood was all over her arm and leg.
A rebel. That is what Sarah was and this time she let it go too far. Murder in Weblow was punishable by death. An eye for an eye was the basic principle for her country's law system.
In a heap of frustration she gathered her belongings, blew out all the candles so her house would not be burnt down and exited out her bedroom window. Sadly she wondered what her father would think. But she could not look back for it would perhaps, be then end of her.
Stealthily she fled through the fields. The Weblownian sun was beginning to set on the west, just were she was heading. All was going to plan except one flaw: what was she to do now?
She surly would become a wanted criminal, her only hope would be the village farthest from her home town. The kingdom of Weblow. She remembered hearing of an organization known as ROW, rebellion of Weblow. They fought for complete peace against the crown and some ended in all out wars.
"ROW," she whispered to herself as she slipped through the shadows. It was the only place for a natural born rebel to flee. Her new plan was devised in a matter of moments while she dodged an oncoming carriage.
Join the ROW, fight for freedom, gain a high rank, become free of all charges against her. It needed work but it was to become the basis which she based her ‘new' life around.

Continued on page 2